


time will tell

by shamyesapsoorap



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, High School AU, Humor, Modern AU, transfer student au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamyesapsoorap/pseuds/shamyesapsoorap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clarke is a transfer student who falls for Finn but can't stop watching the aloof (and, okay, totally gorgeous) Bellamy Blake.</p><p>Or, the one where I tried to write Flarke and I just couldn't do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dancing Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this tonight in honor of the new episode. I'm thinking we're all going to need a bunch of fluff after that intensity, am I right?

It was Clarke's third day of class without her best friend.  _Ex-best friend_ , she corrected herself, looking up at the activities board in the hallway of her new school.  _Ex-friend, even_.  
  
She and Wells hadn't talked in weeks.  After the accident, Clarke had suffered through her final exams, avoiding him at all costs in the halls and during lunch.  
  
It wasn't easy to stay away from him, especially since Wells was actively trying to seek her out, with his scrunched-up forehead and comically sad puppy eyes, like it was him who lost his father, not Clarke.  It made her sick.  
  
You'd think, with all the energy he was expending on tracking her down (let's just say that she spent an awful lot of time in the women's restroom), that he'd actually have something to say to her – but when he finally got her alone at the funeral, all he could say was _sorry_ , over and over again, and _sorry_ wasn't going to bring her dad back.  _Sorry_ meant nothing, so she talked to her mom about transferring schools, and here she was, January 7th, her third day at Ark Public High, friendless and looking at the activities board.  
  
She'd already been to a lunch meeting of the Baking Club and an after-school welcome-back movie night for the Astronomy Club.  She was determined to try _everything_ , because it was her third day and she still knew no one.  The only other people at the Baking Club meeting were triplets who didn't even look at her, and she got laughed out of the Astronomy Club when they discovered she hadn't seen _Star Wars_.  
  
Unfortunately, the only thing happening that day was the Ballroom Dancing Club meeting.  Now, Clarke didn't know what kind of kids would be in a Ballroom Dancing Club, but she was pretty sure she didn't _want_ to know.  Not that she was a snob.  (She was a snob.)  
  
Clarke was about to move down the hall when a gaggle of friends turned the corner and walked toward her, talking loudly.  She froze and leaned casually against the wall, pretending she was waiting for someone instead of walking around like the friendless loser she was.  She watched the group carefully, out of the corner of her eye: four boys and a girl, laughing uproariously.  Was it her imagination or was one of the boys, the one with long hair and a pleasant face, watching her as they got closer?  
  
They would walk past her and the board in seconds, and then she would skedaddle.  Clarke tensed.  
  
The long-haired guy was definitely watching her, though.  She made eye contact, expecting him to glance away awkwardly, but he held her gaze until eventually Clarke had to look down, flustered.  How rude of him.  
  
And the group was passing, and… no.  One of the guys, not the long-haired starer, pointed triumphantly at the board and announced, "Tonight! 5pm!"  
  
"I fucking hate you, Jasper," moaned another of the boys, one who was long-faced and black-haired.  
  
The girl at his side sniggered gleefully.  "Take video, won't you, Jasper?" she asked, fist-bumping him.  "I want something to show at our graduation party."  
  
The unhappy guy's frown deepened.  "Maybe we can make a deal.  I have that video of _you_ , remember – "  
  
The girl's eyes widened suddenly.  "Bell!  You wouldn't!"  
  
"What video?" Jasper asked, looking between them curiously.  
  
Bell half-smiled.  "Let's just say – I think Octavia's the one that could use dancing lessons."  
  
Octavia punched him on the arm, and the group moved away, arguing.  Clarke couldn't tell if they were actually mad at each other, but it didn't matter.  They seemed friendly and relaxed – and opposites attracted, right?  
  
So if they were going to be at the Ballroom Dancing Club meeting at 5 o'clock tonight, Clarke was too.

* * *

There were eleven people in the cafeteria when Clarke arrived, right on time.  She counted heads, ridiculously relieved that there was an even number.  All four of the boys from earlier were there, and she made eye contact with the long-haired one, whose name she still didn't know, almost as soon as she walked in.  Clarke couldn't decide whether she liked the attention, but luckily she only had to endure a few seconds of standing awkwardly alone before Mrs. Kane waltzed in and started talking.  
  
(Of course Mrs. Kane moderated this club, Clarke thought.  She was Clarke's new English teacher, and she was very old-fashioned, always wearing high-necked lace button-ups and quoting Charles Dickens.)  
  
"We have some new faces!" she said, beaming around at all twelve of them.  "Why don't we introduce ourselves?  Clarke?"  
  
"I'm Clarke," Clarke said.  
  
Mrs. Kane looked at her expectantly for a full eight seconds before clapping her hands and saying, "Excellent!  And you gentlemen?"  
  
"Bellamy," said Bell – the one who had been so unhappy to come to the meeting, still frowning.  Was his face stuck like that?  Clarke wasn't sure.  
  
"Finn," said Bellamy's friend, and just like that, Clarke had a name to associate with his round, friendly face.  He looked at her as he said it, and smiled.  
  
Clarke looked down, but couldn't stop her lips from curving up, just a little.  
  
"Right," Mrs. Kane said.  "We'll start with some easy stuff, and if you're having trouble, try following one of the more experienced pairs."  She had them partner off, and Clarke had to wait all of two seconds before Finn appeared in front of her, extending his hand.  
  
She took it, and he led her into the middle of the room.  The other couples had a little more trouble getting situated, since there were seven guys and only five girls.  Bellamy ended up with the prettiest girl, and Jasper ended up with his friend.  ("That's Jasper and Monty," Finn told her.  "You'll like them.")  
  
_A bold prediction for someone who knows nothing about me_ , Clarke thought.  
  
"So, Clarke," Finn said, as the music started and they followed Jasper and Monty, Clarke trying her best not to step on his toes, "Is that your first name or your last name?"  
  
"First name," she told him.  "My last name is Griffin.  And Finn – is that _your_ first or last name?"  
  
He glanced down at her, eyebrows slanting together in confusion.  "First name.  Why – _is_ Finn even a last name?"  
  
She shrugged.  "I've never met a Huckleberry but that doesn't mean I've given up hope."  
  
"Fair point," he snorted, and said, "oh – sorry," as he stepped on her toes.  
  
"You don't dance either?" she asked dryly.  
  
"Can you tell?  No.  Bellamy and I are just here because we lost a bet, which we're not going to make a habit of doing.  Jasper and Monty are sadistic."  
  
Clarke glanced at Bellamy, ballroom-dancing aggressively (if that's possible), his face almost touching the girl's.  "He seems nice," she said.  
  
"Interesting word choice."  
  
Clarke looked back at Finn and smiled.  
  
Throughout the evening, he almost never took his eyes off her, and when they waltzed, his hand on her back was surprisingly gentle.  She decided she liked this guy, with his liquid eyes and cute face and soft hair (her hand brushed it at one point – accidentally, she told herself).  
  
When Mrs. Kane called for the last partner switch, she and Finn (who hadn't switched at all, yet) found themselves right next to Bellamy and his partner.  Without trying – or at least that's what she told herself, sternly and with some internal finger-wagging – Clarke had noticed that Bellamy had switched partners every dance, and had managed to dance with every girl except her.  Finn had noticed too, apparently, because he smiled at Clarke and said, "I bet you're tired of me by now.  Here, Bellamy, do you want to take a turn with Clarke?"  
  
Bellamy glanced at her, his long face hollow and emotionless.  His eyes met hers, hard, dark, challenging.  Clarke didn't smile at him, either.  Who did he think he was, this weirdly attractive boy whose face was stuck in the "brooding Romantic poet posing for a portrait" position?  
  
"I'm fine," Bellamy said to Finn.  
  
"I guess you're stuck with me, then."  Finn smiled sheepishly.  "Unless you don't want to…"  
  
"Of course," Clarke said, pushing down her irrational feeling that she'd just been snubbed.  She hesitated.  "I really like dancing with you."  
  
"And I with you," Finn told her, the nervous look disappearing from his eyes and his forehead smoothing out.  "In fact – hey, do you want to go out with us afterward?  We're meeting Octavia – Bellamy's twin, she's nice, you'll like her – and going out to dinner.  Burgers.  You're not vegetarian, are you?"  
  
It was almost too easy, Clarke thought.  She'd known Finn for 52 minutes, and here he was inviting her into his group of friends.  And if the rest of them were anything like Finn – but they weren't.  Her face fell as she glanced over at Bellamy.  He was still way too close to his dancing partner.  The two of them were totally ignoring Mrs. Kane, who was hovering around them, trying to correct their technique.  _And make room for the Holy Spirit_ , she thought she heard Mrs. Kane say.  
  
Finn caught her look and interpreted its target correctly.  "Yeah, that was a real dick move, wasn't it?" he said thoughtfully.  "I don't know what's up with him tonight.  Don't worry too much, though.  He's probably just shy around all these new people."  
  
Clarke looked back at Finn, and he didn't look away.  They were dancing face to face, stepping – almost rocking – slowly in about a one-inch square.  His gaze was earnest, wide-eyed.  "Okay," she decided, because you know what, why should she let Bellamy the Asshole scare her out of making friends?  
  
"Excellent," Finn said, smiling wide and genuine at her.  
  
Clarke allowed herself to smile back, before getting distracted by movement at the open door.  It was the intimidatingly gorgeous dark-haired girl from earlier, Octavia, who had her phone tucked under one crossed arm and was surreptitiously filming her brother.  Clarke thought she recognized Octavia from one of her classes, but wasn't sure which one.  Beautiful people like that didn't normally associate with rabble like her.  
  
"Yeah, that's Octavia," Finn said, noticing her glance, and he may as well have said _That's Octavia, known to you as Her Majesty the Queen_.  He waved at her, and when the song ended and Mrs. Kane thanked them all for coming, he led Clarke over to her.  "Clarke's coming to dinner with us," he announced.  
  
Octavia tilted her head and used a lacquered fingernail to flick a strand of silky dark hair out of her face, revealing a line-art tattoo curving around the bottom of her ear and dripping onto her neck.  She smiled, the sort of fake smile of a girl who knows every guy in the room is watching her.  (Some of them may have been literally drooling.  Clarke didn't look too closely.)  "Hi, Clarke," Octavia said.  
  
"Octavia."  
  
"Clarke!" Jasper said, bounding over with Monty in tow.  "Come on, walk with us.  Finn's a loser."  Grinning, he linked arms with her, and led her exuberantly outside.  "I hope Finn had the good sense to ask you to dinner with us, at least?"  
  
Clarke looked between Jasper and Monty, happiness resurfacing inside her.  "He did," she said finally.  "I mean, as long as – if you guys don't mind, right."  Jasper and Monty, she could deal with.  Ice Queen and Asshole back there – that was a different story.  She could've told you they were siblings even if she'd met them in different universes.  They were just that similar – icy, aloof, and, okay, beautiful.  (That Bellamy was one nice-looking slab of meat, she had to say.  Not out loud, though, and not around Finn.)  
  
Monty winked at her.  "Finn sure thinks you're something, doesn't he?"  
  
"No kidding," Jasper agreed.  
  
"And he never – "  
  
"We mean _never_ – "  
  
"Ever, talks about, or with, girls."  
  
"So you must really be special.  And obviously you're coming to dinner with us.  We're not taking no for an answer."


	2. The Burger Joint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets to know each other over an offensively enormous dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was originally part of Chapter 1, but Chapter 1 was kind of monstrously long (and also quite a bit longer than what will now be Chapter 3), so I rebalanced everything.

The burger joint, when the six of them got there, was empty.  "Nice place, isn't it?" Octavia asked, appearing at Clarke's elbow, breathing the "t" sound at the end of her sentence like "tuh," and leaving her bottom lip pouting half-open.  Her eyes moved languidly around the room, looking everywhere but at Clarke.  
  
Clarke looked around, too – at the grease-shiny concave ceiling, the pitted linoleum floor, and the cracked vinyl-wrapped barstools.  She saw blackened chrome, chipped glass, and oily counters.  And absolutely zero people – not even anyone behind the bar.  
  
"Nice," Clarke said nervously.  "Interesting word choice."  
  
And just like that, so fast she wondered if it happened at all, Octavia's face changed.  Her jaw relaxed, her eyebrows lifted, her eyes brightened.  She let her guard down.  "Clarke, right?" she asked, flopping into the nearest booth with a _wumph!_ and sliding over.  "You look familiar.  Are you in my English class?"  
  
"I think so," Clarke agreed, thinking, _what the hell just happened?_   She slid into the opposite side of the booth and found herself between Bellamy and Finn.  She edged microscopically closer to Finn, and her knee touched his under the table.  Clarke blushed, and while she tried to look everywhere but at Finn, she accidentally locked eyes with Bellamy, who – wow, could he look any more disapproving?  Like she cared.  
  
"So – Clarke, tell us about yourself," Jasper said, leaning his elbows onto the grease-stained table (a questionable decision).  "Finn's being rude.  He wouldn't tell us anything.  Like where you came from, for starters."  
  
"I heard she fell out of Valhalla," Monty stage-whispered.  "Get it, right?  Because Finn is Scandinavian – and Valhalla is the Viking heaven – "  
  
Jasper snorted and smacked Monty's arm.  "That is so not how the joke goes, doofus.  Get it right."  
  
"What joke?"  Monty's eyes were wide with feigned confusion.  "No, guys, she comes from Valhalla.  That's really what I heard."  
  
Octavia rolled her eyes.  "Your sources suck, Monty.  What were you using, Wikipedia?"  
  
"Yeah, because Clarke has a Wikipedia page.  I, uh, heard it from Lincoln, actually."  
  
"Oh, _burn_!"  Jasper was gleeful.  
  
"Hey."  Octavia frowned.  "I will have you know that Lincoln is older – and therefore wiser – than all of you."  
  
" – put together," Jasper added, and Octavia smacked his arm.  
  
In the ensuing giggles, Finn turned to Clarke, his expression solemn.  He was clearly above all this merriment.  "But really, Clarke.  Are you a transfer student?  What school do you come from?"  
  
"Oh my God, Finn, you haven't asked her that yet?"  Octavia seemed genuinely shocked.  
  
"Yeah, what kind of crappy love interest are you?" Jasper asked.  
  
"We're not – " Clarke protested.  
  
Bellamy spoke up suddenly.  "Oh yes you are," he said.  
  
Gazing suspiciously at him, Clarke waited for him to elaborate.  He just sat there mulishly, eyes hooded, silent.  Just as the silence was about to become awkward, Clarke said, "Well, I'm from St. Christopher's, anyway."  
  
"Of course," Bellamy said dismissively.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Clarke snapped at him (not a good first impression but she couldn't help it – his smug, self-satisfied face was just so insulting).  
  
Bellamy bowed mockingly, as much as the booth's limited space would allow.  "Whatever you want it to mean.  I'm so glad you decided to mingle with us peasants.  How kind of you, Princess."  
  
"Aw, shut it," Octavia said, reaching across the table to slap his arm.  
  
Clarke bit back a scathing comment only when Finn whispered, "Don't bother.  It's not worth it.  He's probably just jealous," and put an arm around her shoulders – and that, of course, led to a wolf whistle in two-part harmony, beautifully performed by Monty and Jasper.  (Clarke could have sworn they'd rehearsed it.)  Finn started turning red but kept his arm where it was, and Clarke leaned against it slightly.  
  
The noise had apparently roused the restaurant staff, since their waitress ambled out of the back room at this point and took their order: six burgers, six milkshakes, and eight fries, which Clarke thought was excessive.  Jasper didn't.  "Why am I _always_ the one sitting next to Octavia?" he moaned.  "I'm pretty sure she used a fake ID to win the International Speed-Eating Championship two years ago."  
  
"Hey!" Octavia yelped.  "Jasper, you promised you wouldn't tell anyone."  
  
He grinned sheepishly, and at Octavia's comically pouty face, Clarke burst into laughter – real laughter – the best she'd had in weeks.  Since _at least_ before her dad died.  She laughed real, and loud, and thought, _maybe I can start over_ , and she kept laughing, all through the surprisingly delicious dinner, every crumb of which she finished.  She kept laughing as Octavia gave her a ride home (and as Bellamy sulked in the back seat).  She laughed because these were good people, and they were exactly the right kind of fun, and four-fifths of them were nice.  And when she was with them, she could forget for the first time.  
  
When Clarke walked in the door, her mom was waiting on the couch.  "You're back late," Abby said, in a neutral tone of voice.  "What have you been up to?"  
  
"Oh, mom," Clarke said, letting herself fall lengthwise into her favorite chair and feeling a foolish smile still on her face.  "I think I made the right choice."  
  
Abby was smart, you had to give her that.  "In switching schools?" she asked.  "Good, honey.  Are you fitting in already?"  
  
"Better than that."  Clarke looked at her straight on, remembering Finn's arm pressing across her shoulders, Jasper's desperate attempts to keep up with Monty's inhuman punning ability, Monty's casual hairflip as he trounced Jasper unquestionably, and Octavia's shining eyes as she laughed hysterically while managing not to spit out the food in her mouth.  "Mom.  I think I found friends."  _And Bellamy's morose eyes, watching everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: this is the last Flarke chapter! Soon we'll see Bellamy being the handsome devil he is. ;)


	3. The Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven shows up unexpectedly – in the middle of Finn's first date with Clarke. Awkwardness and bellarke feels ensue.
> 
> Also included is a healthy dose of clarke x octavia, because they're my brotp and I can't handle the fact that they're fighting in the next episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit more angsty than the rest of the fic so far, just because of, ehhhh, personal drama? Also, I have no idea how to write a funny breakup scene.

"So," Octavia grinned as she slid into the seat next to Clarke.  (Clarke tried valiantly to ignore the fact that every single boy in their English class was now staring at her with a jealousy that bordered on hatred.)  
  
Clarke still hadn't gotten over the fact that she was actually friends with this girl.  This intimidating girl with perfect eyebrows and tattoos and a short maroon tank top exposing her perfectly flat stomach.  This girl who would only talk to five people in the entire school, but was still worshipped by everyone else.  
  
And Clarke was one of those five people, but only because of Finn.  And Finn was…well, Finn was a problem.  Once she and Finn were officially kaput, who knew whether Octavia would ever say anything to her again?  
  
Still grinning, Octavia leaned over.  "So, Clarke.  How'd the date with Finn go?"  She waggled her eyebrows conspiratorially.  
  
Clarke forced a smile.  "Finn who?"  
  
And just like that, Octavia's happy expression dropped right off her face, and her eyes became dangerous and dark.  "What happened?" she growled.

 

* * *

 

They'd been in a coffee shop, and Finn had been looking at her like she was the sun, like she was something beautiful.  
  
Clarke had let her guard down.  She'd opened up, even talked about her art.  She'd said, "Here, I think I have one on my phone."  
  
She'd said, "Let me show you."  
  
And then, suddenly, the shop went quiet.  All the noise was sucked outside as the door opened, fast.  And there was a girl standing there.  A girl with such an air of determined conviction and gravity that Clarke felt her eyes drawn to her, as if by magnetism.  
  
The girl wasn't looking at Clarke, though.  She was looking at Finn, and standing there, her red jacket, leg brace, combat boots, and sparkling eyes framed by the door against the misty night behind her.  
  
She walked forward, slow motion, and everything about her said _destiny_.  
  
And the ambient noise came back to life, slowly, as she sped up, slow motion falling into a forward run.  The noise reached its peak as she crashed into Finn.  The girl kissed him, hard and passionate, as everything stopped again, and everyone in the shop (the world, it felt like) was transfixed by this girl, kissing Finn.  
  
And Finn kissed her back.  
  
Clarke's ears were ringing as she stood up and said, "We can finish studying for that test later, then," loudly, into the silence.  
  
The girl's eyes were closed, but Finn's eyes were on Clarke.  
  
He looked like he was maybe going to say something, but there was nothing to say.  Clarke strode out of the coffee shop.

 

* * *

 

"Yeah," Clarke said.  "Not the best first date I've ever been on."  
  
"Jesus."  Octavia shook her head.  "That's disgusting.  What a jerk."  
  
Clarke felt waves of relief wash over her.  Was Octavia going to take her side on this?  
  
"So you didn't know about the other girl, either?"  
  
Octavia frowned.  "No.  I'm telling you, I've never seen him talk with a girl other than me.  It's bizarre, that's what it is."  Suddenly, her eyes lightened, and she glanced at the clock.  "But who cares about him?  Are you okay?"  She didn't even wait for Clarke to answer before seizing her wrist and dragging her out of the classroom.  "Bring your bag," she hissed.  
  
"What?" Clarke asked, once they were safely in the hallway.  
  
"Come on, class doesn't start for another two minutes.  Let's get out of here.  What you need is a girls' day."  
  
"Okay," Clarke agreed.  She'd never skipped class in her life.  But if it made Octavia happy, she was okay with it.  
  
But when they were rolling down the freeway on their way to the Mount Weather Lookout Point in Octavia's convertible, Clarke realized she might have been wrong.  The wind was tugging her hair, the sun was warm in the empty blue sky, and there were plastic-wrapped cheese sandwiches in a bag on the backseat.  Octavia was shrieking with laughter about the time Monty had convinced Jasper it was Monday when it was really Sunday, and Clarke was smiling despite herself.  
  
And Clarke thought, maybe, this was exactly what she needed.

 

* * *

 

She'd made it half a block before she collapsed, leaning into a building and feeling its rough red bricks under her back.  She told herself she wouldn't cry, and she didn't, but she just sat there, breathing hard, every muscle in her body clenched against itself.  
  
This betrayal was too damn close to what Wells had done, when he'd gone out late, drunk himself stupid.  Monroe had called, _come pick up your stupid fucking neighbor before he kills someone, he's ruining the party_ , and Clarke's dad had insisted he go.  It was late and Clarke had a biology test the next day.  
  
 _I'll be back before you know it._  
  
That was the last thing her dad had said before he'd left in the car.  
  
He died less than two blocks away from her house, because no one had taken Wells's keys away from him.  And Wells was an idiot, and he'd decided to drive himself, and he'd made it most of the way, too.  
  
But not all the way.  And Clarke felt waves of betrayal and anger pouring over her.  She felt blindsided.  Of _course_ there was another girl.  Of _course_ Wells had been stupid enough to think he could make it home.  Of _course_.  
  
And when Clarke heard her name, quiet and concerned – "Clarke?" – and she looked up, of fucking _course_ it was Bellamy.  It was Bellamy, obviously, because he was the last person in the universe other than Finn that she wanted to see at that moment, and the universe hated her.  
  
"Go away, Bellamy," she snarled.  
  
"No way, Princess."  He sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders.  
  
Clarke remembered the weight of Finn's arm around her, and she felt a cold anger settle in her stomach.  She ducked out from under Bellamy's arm and stood up.  "Don't," she said, her voice harsh and raw.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked.  If she hadn't known better, Clarke would have thought he genuinely cared.  
  
"I'm fine," she spat.  "Finn – "  
  
"I know," Bellamy interrupted.  "I was in the shop.  I saw what happened.  Are you okay?"  
  
Clarke snorted.  Of course he was in the shop with them.  She hadn't seen him – but, apparently, he'd seen everything, and now he was pretending to care.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked again, insistent.  
  
"Why do you even care?" she demanded, then barked out a laugh.  "Oh, of course.  You don't.  Then _why are you pretending_?"  
  
Bellamy leaned away, a hurt expression on his face.  It was there for an instant, before it was replaced by closed-off eyes and a thinning of the lips.  "Octavia'd butcher me if I didn't," he said flatly.  "Besides, I always had a bad feeling about Finn."  He paused.  "Let me give you a ride home, at least."  
  
Clarke gestured angrily and started walking away.  
  
"Hey, Princess."  His tone didn't change as he vaulted to his feet and caught up with her.  He didn't try to touch her again.  "You forgot this."  
  
Clarke took her phone with a scowl.  "Thanks."  It had been on this whole time.  Bellamy hadn't had the courtesy to turn it off, apparently.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, walking in the opposite direction, back to the coffee shop.  
  
She looked at her phone again, reflexively, waiting for her head to clear.  
  
But when it did, she noticed what she'd been looking at the whole time.  
  
She'd meant to show Finn a still life she'd done the day before, but somehow, in the confusion, she must have swiped one picture too far – because the photo on the screen now was a portrait, a quick one, of an unsmiling dark-haired boy.  
  
It was meant to be Finn, but from the roughness of the sketch and the angle of the picture, she could see how it also looked like Bellamy.  
  
And Bellamy'd been the one to return her phone to her, which meant he must have seen the picture.  And if he'd thought it was a picture of himself, if he'd thought Clarke had been sketching him, if he'd thought Clarke had feelings for him (she didn't, she _didn't_ ) –  
  
That would explain everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me or chat with me on tumblr at [shamyesapsoorap.tumblr.com](http://www.shamyesapsoorap.tumblr.com), where I post nonstop about The 100 and all the ships I ship (spoiler alert: all of them) and am generally a totally awesome person, I promise.


End file.
